


Feral Urges

by CavannaRose



Series: Cheetah Fics [5]
Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Secret Society of Super Villains (Comics), Wonder Woman (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killing this one cuz I don't like it. It's stilted and just... not good. Leaving it up though as a mark of how my writing improves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the most part, Barbara had conquered the more feral side of her nature. Certainly it flared up from time to time, but she'd discovered that giving in to it helped the urges pass faster. A part of her thrilled at it, the violence and abandon. The warmth and salt of the blood running across her lips. It was a dark joy deep within her. A hunger, driven by the primitive god that had given her the gift of his power.

But she was a woman of breeding. She had been groomed by the upper crust of London society, schooled in the best universities. What cruel joke had the world played that a mind so brilliant was prone to such base, animalistic behaviour? She adjusted the fall of the tight blue shirt, framing her cleavage to it's best advantage. Staring into the mirror, her brows furrowed at the furred expanse. If it served her purpose, she would act the part of the femme fatale to manipulate circumstances to her advantage, but deep in her prim, British soul she only saw an animal when she looked in the mirror.

With a shriek of anger, she drove her fist into the glass. Shattering it, the pieces falling around her like broken butterfly wings, hitting the ground in a bell-like tinkling sound. Stepping over the pieces in disgust, she stalks out of her flat, resisting the temptation to lick the bloody scratches up her forearm. The papers were still printing news of the murders she had committed across the front pages, the sensationalist nature of the brutal dismemberments made good copy, after all.

Out into the dark streets she strode, the rage bubbling beneath her furred skin. She flexed her fingers, the claws digging into the palms of her hand as her chest rumbled in a low growl. It didn't matter how carefully she cultivated herself, she was not a woman. The proof of that lashed angrily behind her, curling in agitation. She fought her inner beast down, drawing herself back down to sanity. She would not be a victim of her baser nature.

A harsh voice broke her concentration, loosening her thin grip on her temper. "Oy oy oy, lookee here. We got one o' them freaks wanderin' 'round like they's people." Unfortunately, she had forgotten her customary cloak, the one she used to cover her feline face and pointed ears. Normally she wouldn't come out without it, even with daylight rapidly vanishing into a faint memory. This was why. Perhaps she was here because part of her had wanted this, she'd baited victims this way before.

Drawing herself to her full 5'9, she turned, gold eyes flashing with the feral rage that Urtzkartaga had burdened her with for the sin of not being untouched. The man pulled himself up, taken aback for a moment by the full vision of her. She stalked closer, the rolling nature of her gait a lithe dance that no human form could mimic. Barbara twitched her nose, catching the scent of fear and desire on the air. A bark of derisive laughter escaped her, fangs gleaming in the glowing orange of the slowly setting sun.

This one, he was not so much a fool as some of the others, and his wandering gaze passed over her shapely form to rivet on her razor sharp claws. She smiled, a lethal expression full of promise and advanced towards him. He stepped back each time she moved forwards, and she lengthened her stride, the predatory side of her nature taking over. Fear was like a spice in the bloodstream of the wicked, one that she had developed a taste for over time. Step by careful step, she backed him down into the alley, out of the sight of anyone that might be passing by.

The once bold man was blubbering a quick retraction, stammering apologies to the scowling face of a remorseless hunter. In a flash of speed granted by the cheetah she resembled, she had him pinned against the wall, claws digging into the filthy material of his shirt as she pressed against him, face near his ear. "So you think that I am less than human, do you? Shall I show you exactly where you fall on the food chain?"

He inhaled, a scream ready, when her free hand flashed up, slicing the vocal chords neatly from the front of his neck. It burst in a spurt of crimson, like a dam suddenly cracked after a storm. The hot, sticky liquid oozed down the front of his body like a fresh can of paint splashed against the side of a building. Barbara growled eagerly, her head dipping down towards the open wound, her tongue, rougher than a human's, tugged lightly at the sternohyoid muscle as she lapped the fresh blood. She couldn't resist, made eager by the taste of fresh meat her claws shredded the front of him as she fed at the wound, ribbons of flesh flapping in the night breeze as she enacted a macabre mimicry of a kitten kneading as it nurses.

Face and front soaked with the remnants of the man's life, she finally let the body fall, the hollowed out torso barely recognizable, bone showing through the pulpy mess. She gave a real laugh then, halfway between a purr and a growl, shaking out her long, curling hair, sending flickers of gore spattering across the alleyway. Head held high, face and front stained scarlet, she turned, exiting the alleyway and making her way homewards.


	2. Chapter 2

He waits until she has taken a couple of steps away from the alley to speak, not wishing to interrupt the show. “Very nice work,” he comments in a conversational tone. “A little too messy out here in the public like this, but I like your style.” The interloper leans forward, toward Barbara and away from the brick wall he is leaning against, reaching out to run the tip of his finger along her chin. It is coated with blood as he pulls it back, and he puts it in his mouth with a low moan. “Oh, yes. Very nice work.” He pulls the jacket he is wearing off of his shoulders and drapes it around the Cheetah's, pulling it closed in front of her to attempt to hide the mess. “I suggest you learn to eat without wearing so much of your food, and learn how to hide what you do. You do not want to be caught.”

At first Barbara is affronted by the gall of the man. It was rare for her to be unaware of observers with her heightened senses, but sometimes, in the heat of the kill, the feral urges that Urtzkartaga had cursed her with were too far gone into the bloodlust. It was a habit she had to be careful of. Naturally, conceding to the urge more often would lesson it's hold on her, but bloody hell she was a lady.

Perhaps there was much of the beast in her, but mentally she was repulsed by the gentleman's fascination with her messy display. She tilted her face upwards, squaring her shoulders and putting on her most scornful British gentry expression. "You sir, are passing judgement on things you do not understand." Her tail lashed angrily behind her, and as he moved to adjust the jacket he had adorned her with, she snapped her razor sharp teeth at him, allowing a low growl to escape her lips.

"I dare anyone to interrupt my hunt. I would relish the challenge of prey with a little more... bite to them." She shook her head, letting the curling red locks fall around her face, disguising the more feline of her features, unknowingly dipping the ends of the locks in the pooling blood at her chest.

"The signs of the kill I wear proudly, and if I thought the cowards would dare hunt within my territory, I would drag that filthy carcass to the very steps of the precinct. The officers here are not fools, though, they understand what kind of monster stalks their streets, even if you do not."

The Cheetah liked this strange man, but Barbara did not. Ofttimes she fought with her primal nature, but not usually as blatantly as she was right now. Her lip drew back in a snarl, exposing the fang again. Both sides of her, at least, agreed that they wished to intimidate the strange man who interrupted the aftermath of her hunt. She tapped into the skills she had learned from Hunter Zolomon so long ago, and /moved/. Faster than the blink of an eye, his jacket was puddled on the ground and she was behind him, claws at his neck and face near his ear.

"You would do well not to touch where you were not invited. The cheetah may be a gentle creature in the zoo, but I am an untamed and primal force, and am more than happy to add you to the macabre little scene in the alley, if I do not find your manners pleasing. Do we understand each other?"


End file.
